


riding shotgun

by naughtyskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Talk, Emily is not physically present but she is mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hotel Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Sharing Clothes, Size Kink (a little), Wet & Messy, and thought about, bc Ben has a lot of love! he's allowed to share!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-02-10 04:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/naughtyskeletonpuns
Summary: Here's the thing: Sammy and Ben canonically take weekend trips together. On at least one of these trips, Ben canonically packed nothing but garbage—i.e., no actual clothing. He has to have borrowed Sammy's clothes, right? It's only logical.... It's shameless smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> y'all, [domi](https://domirine.tumblr.com/) is an angel of samben and has been so kind as to provide this fic with ILLUSTRATIONS!!!! everyone go give her lots of love for these blessed arts

In Ben’s defense, he had not planned to get quite so muddy. It was not his fault that it had rained that day, or that Sammy had been enthusiastic enough about their planned hike that refusing to go would have felt like kicking a puppy. Anything that got Sammy enthusiastic about life was something that Ben Arnold was a fan of.

Besides, tripping and sliding most of the way down a muddy hill was totally worth it, because when Sammy eventually picked his way down to the bottom and opened his mouth to tease Ben about falling, Ben rushed forward and gave him a muddy hug.

“I can’t believe you didn’t see that coming!” Ben sputtered through laughter. “That would have been my first worry if I were you.” He tucked his head under Sammy’s, ostensibly to get as much mud and rainwater on Sammy as possible.

If he was honest, it was actually getting a little cold for him, and Sammy was warm.

“Really,” Sammy said. Ben could practically hear the dry look on his face, even as he rested his chin on Ben’s head and wrapped his arms around Ben. “Your first worry would be that I would have hugged you and gotten dirt all over you, not that I had, I don’t know, broken an arm?”

“Eh, you would have been fine.”

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in me.” Sammy loosened his half of the hug to rub his hands up and down Ben’s arms. “C’mon, let’s get back to the hotel before we get pneumonia and King Falls is out of its least-favorite radio hosts.”

Ben scoffed and protested at “least-favorite”, because the ‘be well’ shitheads were one thing, but there had to be someone more disliked than they were. The argument— _ heated discussion _ —carried them back to their car. 

Their hotel room was just big enough for the two of them, two double beds and a cramped bathroom in which the fan only half-worked but the water stayed hot, and that was all they really needed.

Ben darted into the bathroom the moment they got inside. The mud caked on his clothes and skin had started to itch about halfway home, and Sammy took longer in the shower than Ben had patience to wait at that moment. “Be out in a sec!” he shouted, lying through his teeth.

It didn’t really count as a lie if Sammy was also fully aware that Ben was lying, right?

Ben left his muddy clothes—shit, even his boxers were soaked with rainwater at this point—in a pile on the floor and jumped into the shower. He swore loudly at the chilly spray, but it heated up soon enough.

“You doing alright, bud? Shower too tall for you?” Sammy called from the hotel room, amusement coloring his voice.

“You can’t see it but I need you to know I’m flipping you off right now!” 

Luckily for Ben, Sammy, responsible adult that he was, had already put his own shampoo and stuff in the bathroom. Ben didn’t make a habit of stealing Sammy’s stuff, but hey, it was a hell of a lot better than the hotel brand soaps.

And also it smelled nice. Not that Ben, like, went around smelling Sammy’s hair or anything! He’d just noticed, that was all. The label on the bottle proclaimed it to be sandalwood, and the shampoo smelled sort of woodsy and sweet.

It was nice.

The water was more than hot enough now, turning Ben’s skin pink and flushed wherever it hit. It sluiced away the mud and leaves he’d picked up, sending them swirling to rest at the drain opening. He opened Sammy’s shampoo, squeezing more than was probably polite into the palm of his hand. But hey, Ben could always buy him more.

Steam gathered in the shower stall as Ben worked his hair into a lather. He dragged his fingers through his tangled curls with a wince. Hopefully he had a brush packed.

Ben tipped his head back to let the shower wash away the foam, squeezing his eyes shut in avoidance of any soap-in-eye scenarios. God, it really smelled like Sammy in here now. With his eyes shut, Ben could almost pretend that Sammy was here with him.

… That’s a super normal thing to think about your best friend, right?

With a shake of his head, spraying water against the curtain and wall, Ben dismissed the thought. They’d had a good day, but a long day, and he was too tired from the hike to deal with any crises right now. He started rubbing conditioner into his hair slowly, taking his time going over his scalp.

Sammy and Emily had both ganged up on him about conditioner when they’d discovered the three-in-one soap he’d used previously. And while there was a tiny part of him that was still pretty certain that the hair industry was a scam, there were some arguments (well, most arguments) that Ben was not going to win with Sammy and Emily teamed up against his side of the debate.

It was kind of nice to have his hair all soft from conditioner, he had to admit.

Made him wonder if Sammy’s hair was this soft all the time. It was certainly shiny and soft-looking enough.

Ben coughed slightly, narrowly avoiding swallowing a mouthful of shower water, and finished cleaning himself up as fast as he could. He’d just be done here, get dressed, and they’d go to sleep in separate beds, and Emily’s suggestive texts about what he and Sammy had her enthusiastic permission to get up to would be entirely unnecessary. He wasn’t going to say anything, and neither was Sammy. Just because Sammy was gay did not mean he was into Ben like that.

By the time Ben was fully rinsed off and stepping out of the shower stall, the entire bathroom was steamed up. He couldn’t see more than a vague, blurry shape of himself in the mirror. Wiping off a small space on it, he took in his own expression.

A flush still colored his cheeks and neck, spreading blotchily down his chest and torso. His lips were red like he’d been biting them all afternoon in nerves or been involved in a particularly enthusiastic makeout session. On impulse, Ben drew a thumb across his lower lip and pressed into the soft flesh.

He still smelled so much like Sammy, and there was a moment when he wanted to close his eyes and pretend that it was Sammy’s hand on his face, Sammy’s thumb pressing into his lip.

Then the real Sammy knocked on the door. “Ben, I know you like to take at least an hour to preen in the mirror, but sometimes other people also want to shower.”

“Don’t you dad-voice me now!” Still, he probably should let Sammy into the shower. Ben wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door with a mock bow. “All yours.”

“Mhhm. Thanks.” Sammy sounded weirdly choked-up, and Ben wanted to ask him if everything was okay, but he was past Ben and into the bathroom before Ben could say anything.

Ben was left outside in the room, staring at a closed door and beginning to shiver in the cooler temperatures. Goosebumps diffused over his upper arms; the drops of water rolling down his collarbone and chest were cooling with every second.

Given the temperature, he wasted no time jogging over to his suitcase to get out…

Shit.

To get out a bunch of garbage.

“Broken charger, single sock, bag of cereal that is—yep, gross, way too stale to finish, scratched CD… Where the fuck are my clothes?”

From across the room, he heard the shower turn on again. Ben had wanted to get dried off and dressed before Sammy was done in the shower, but as he continued to rifle through his suitcase, it became increasingly obvious that the closest thing he had to clothing was the single sock.

“Sammy, can I borrow some of your stuff?” he hollered.

“What’d you say?” Sammy was muffled by the shower sounds.

“Great, thanks!” Better to ask forgiveness than permission, Ben told himself, and set to finding something from Sammy’s suitcase he could cajole into fitting him.

It was a little too… something for Ben to wear Sammy’s underwear. Not quite weird, but something. Better to go without than to borrow a pair of boxers. Even if the white cotton did look super comfy. Ben rubbed the material between two fingertips for a few seconds before coming back to himself as a reasonable person who was not creepy and did not have a huge crush on his best friend.

He snagged a pair of sweatpants that he’d probably only have to roll the cuffs of, like, three times to fit him, and a worn t-shirt that he’d actually stolen a couple times before. Sammy wouldn’t mind him borrowing these. Besides, Sammy chronically over-packed, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have extras.

The sweatpants seemed heavier than Ben was expecting as he pulled them out of the suitcase, and there was a weird crinkle from something underneath them. However, the noise was far less surprising than the item that was making the pants so heavy.

When Ben unfolded the sweatpants, a bottle labelled with, of all the names, ‘Sliquid,’ fell to the floor. “Weird place to hide lotion,” he murmured. He picked up the bottle and read the subtitle. ‘Silicone Intimate Lubricant.’

Ben dropped the bottle.

He felt like that one lady, Bluebeard’s wife, the one who kept looking in the doors she wasn’t supposed to. He should be happy with his stolen shampoo and borrowed clothes and not unlock any secret sex doors.

No, fuck that. Ben leaned over to look into the suitcase. The crinkly something was a roll of condoms. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” he whispered.

The shower noise ceased.

Ben glanced down at himself. Still in a towel. Also now featuring a super obvious towel-tent. Panicking, he shoved the lube and condoms back under another set of pants and performed the fastest quick-change he’d done since he was in high school theater.

By the time Sammy emerged from the bathroom—already in pajamas, because he’d thought ahead and brought them into the bathroom with him—Ben was fully clothed, reclining on his bed in a completely natural and super relaxed manner.

“So I was thinking we could order in—” Sammy looked up from where he was towelling his hair off and saw Ben. He blinked.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, buddy?” Ben was acutely aware of the way his shirt—well, Sammy’s shirt—was sliding off of one shoulder. Fixing it now would just draw attention to it, he decided. He should just leave it.

Sammy swallowed. “Pizza. Chinese. Food. We should… get some of that.” He looked away from Ben slowly, like his eyes were caught on the folds of his pants around Ben’s ankles. Ben could see Sammy breathing in and out deeply, and he wouldn’t lie, there was a part of him that wanted to put his hands on Sammy’s chest to feel that rise and fall.

“Sure,” he answered, instead of, ‘Sammy, please show me how you like to use that lube you have on yourself,’ because he thought that might come off a little too desperate. Ben bit his lip and wished he’d chosen a casual, relaxed pose that would let him cover himself more. “Pizza good? There’s a joint around here that’s way better than any of the chains.”

At Sammy’s nod, Ben stepped outside of their room to get a better signal for the call. He wasn’t even sure what he was ordering, honestly. The image of Sammy using this time to get acquainted with the stuff in his bag, even if it was decidedly not what was happening, wouldn’t get out of Ben’s head.

Would he just use it to slick the way for jerking off? Did he ever finger himself with it? He’d go so slow, probably, because Sammy liked to be careful about shit like that. Unbearably slow, working himself open finger by finger…

Ben hung up the call with no idea what pizza he’d bought and a hard-on that was at least partially hidden by the extra fabric of the too-large pants. Kind of. Not really.

He edged back into their room quietly, to see Sammy through the open door of the bathroom, brushing his hair out. Safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be seen at that moment, Ben hurried across the space between the two beds to sit on his and give himself some strategic pillow coverage.

From the bathroom, Sammy said, “A rerun of Jurassic Park’s on, if you want to watch something while we wait.”

“Sounds great!”

Sammy left the bathroom, looking unfairly adorable and sleepy. His hair was still damp, in loose waves around his shoulders. Ben didn’t see Sammy’s hair down very often (not at all, really, before they had started living together) and he was not ashamed to admit that he loved it. “Come here,” his mouth offered before his brain gave it permission. He patted the bedspread next to him. “I think the AC is on the fritz or something,” and he and Sammy both knew that was just as much of a lie as his earlier statement about being ‘just a sec’ in the shower was. “It’s too cold in here. We should sit together.”

Something had to be up, because Sammy didn’t even give him shit about the lie. He just nodded and walked over to join Ben on the bed. It was softer than most hotel beds, and the two of them sort of sagged towards each other naturally.

“You okay, man?” Ben and Sammy were close enough that Ben could speak quietly.

Neither of them made a move towards the TV remote.

“Fine,” Sammy said. He wouldn’t look at Ben, just stared off into the middle distance. “Just peachy, you know?”

Ben elbowed Sammy as much as he could without dislodging his pillow barrier. “Sammy. I know you. And you’ve been somewhere else ever since we got back from the hike.” He leaned in a little, risked pressing his forehead to Sammy’s shoulder. “C’mon, promise I won’t judge you.”

Sammy shook his head. “Jesus, Ben, you’re gonna kill me.” He pushed Ben up off of his shoulder, but his hand lingered at the sleeve of Ben’s shirt. It was more than loose enough for Sammy to grab and tug on lightly. “You know this is mine, right?”

Ben shrugged. “Finders keepers?” He grinned at Sammy sheepishly. “Does it help if I say you could borrow one of mine when we get home?”

“It does not and you know it.”

“Aw, I think you could really pull off the tight t-shirt look, you know? Gotta show off that—” Ben choked up on his own words in the effort to not say any of the things he could possibly finish that sentence with. The soft curve of Sammy’s stomach, the fine trail of hair just under his navel, the freckles scattered along his arms… None of those things were appropriate compliments to give someone who just saw you as his friend. “You’ve got plenty to show off,” he settled on, covering for his pause by patting Sammy on the shoulder, completely platonically.

“Not as much as you,” Sammy muttered. He blanched and ducked his head low as soon as he said it. “You know what I mean.”

“Seriously, I’m like, swallowed in your stuff! This is the opposite of showing off,” Ben declared, because if that silence stretched any longer he might have started screaming. Or worse, given in to the urge to lean in and kiss Sammy.

“That is exactly the problem,” Sammy hissed.

“I—what?”

Sammy threw his hands into the air. “Dammit, Ben, I love you, but you cannot be this oblivious of a person!”

“Is it—I’m sorry I’m wearing your pants and stuff, but I, uh, might have forgotten to pack my own stuff? And I didn’t have any clean stuff!”

“Wait, you packed a whole suitcase.” Sammy gave Ben a look that he recognized all too well as the ‘precursor to a lecture on adulting’ look, and honestly, once he’d heard that lecture once he’d heard it a million times. “What was in the suitcase?”

“Not important!”

“Ben.” Sammy folded his arms. “What did you pack?”

Ben wracked his brain for something, anything that was vaguely related but also not this for him to change the subject to. “I think we should talk about what you packed, actually!” he blurted out, far too loud for how close they were.

Sammy flinched away at the sound, but didn’t take his eyes off Ben. When he spoke, his voice was almost too mild. “I packed a lot of things, Ben.”

“Too many pairs of pants,” Ben babbled. Filter? What filter? He’d never had a filter in his damn life and he wasn’t about to start then. “You packed, like, an unreasonable amount of pants, dude, how many legs do you have? It’s like textbook Boy Scout over here with the preparations, I mean—” He had to stop to breath.

“Interesting take from the man wearing my pants,” Sammy pointed out. “A lot of room you got there.” He leaned down to hook a finger under the extra fabric where it pooled around Ben’s ankles. Ben couldn’t say a word, because his mouth was a goddamn snitch on his brain. If he spoke, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t say something about the other contents of Sammy’s suitcase. Sammy kept talking.

“What drives a man to steal his friend’s clothes? You wouldn’t have any idea, would you?” Sammy pulled on the fabric of the cuff till it went taught, outlining the shape of Ben’s ankle and calf.

Ben was so, so fucking grateful for the pillow on his lap.

“On a related note,” Sammy continued. “What would make that same man leave his clothes piled on the bathroom floor? It’s pretty rude, Benny.” He let go of Ben’s pants leg, but then wrapped his hand around Ben’s ankle. His fingers tapped against Ben’s exposed skin, cautious but definitely there. “Leaving all your things out.”

If Sammy brought up the fact that Ben had left his underwear in the bathroom and thus was (as far as Sammy probably knew) either not wearing any right now or wearing Sammy’s, Ben might actually die. “Those with—” He coughed. “Uhhh, personal items, in their suitcases, should not throw stones!”

Sammy froze for a second, but then narrowed his eyes. He shrugged off the comment and squeezed Ben’s ankle. “We aren’t talking about me right now, Ben. I’m going to ask you a question, and if you or Emily wouldn’t be comfortable with your answer, I need you to tell me.”

All Ben could do was nod.

“Are you hard in my clothes right now?”

“Shit,” Ben breathed.

Sammy let go of Ben’s ankle and leaned back, face closing off. Ben could see the excuses forming on his face before he even said them aloud, and he reached out to grab Sammy’s arm before Sammy could get too far from the bed.

“Wait, Sammy, don’t go!” He was halfway up off the bed himself, pillow barrier long forgotten.

The moment Sammy turned back to look at Ben, he sucked in a harsh breath. “Answered my question. Appreciate the ‘show don’t tell’ aspect there. Great work, really.”

Ben blushed but barrelled onward.  _ Too late to turn back now.  _ “Yes. Yes, Emily and I are both comfortable with this and also. Yes to your question.”

Sammy sat down on the bed. “I—really?”

Ben nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “I thought I was being like, super obvious about it,” he confessed.

“The pillow was not particularly subtle,” Sammy agreed.

“Also as long as we’re admitting things, I’ve been into you for like, a stupidly long time. Emily’s known about it since the beginning, she’s been like, an angel about it. And I stole your shampoo and conditioner in the shower.”

“Why do you think I leave it in there?” Sammy brought his hand up towards Ben’s head, pausing before he would have touched him.

Impulsively, Ben leaned just far enough forward to bring Sammy’s palm into contact with the top of his head. He glanced up at Sammy, putting as much encouragement in the look as he could. Sammy bent his fingers, scrunching up Ben’s still-damp hair. He relaxed his hand and ran it through Ben’s curls, smoothing back out what he’d messed up. “Do you… Is this okay?”

Ben sighed, closing his eyes and leaning harder into the touch. “Mhhm.” He shuffled closer to where Sammy sat on the end of the bed. They were close enough now that their thighs brushed as the bed sank in towards their combined weights.

Sammy kept—kept—Ben couldn’t think of a better word than petting him, drawing his fingers through Ben’s hair and rubbing over his head with just the right amount of pressure. Ben was vaguely aware of making sounds, but not half aware enough to stop himself from making them even if he’d wanted to. Little cut-off sighs and near-moans, breathy and embarrassing in any context but this.

He ended up slumped against Sammy’s torso, with one of Sammy’s arms around his waist and the other still massaging his scalp. Every time Sammy breathed, Ben could feel it behind him in the movement of Sammy’s chest and Sammy’s breath on the back of his neck.

This was way better than just putting his hands on Sammy’s chest like he’d been thinking earlier.

Sammy’s hand stilled and Ben whined without thinking, letting his head flop back to rest against Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy squeezed the back of his neck and Ben arched into the touch, pushing back against Sammy even more.

“Benny,” Sammy began, and Ben twisted around to kiss him.

_ Dammit, Emily had been right about what they’d be doing this weekend all along. _

Sammy’s lips were hot against Ben’s, and he must not have shaved tonight because there was stubble rubbing up against Ben’s cheeks and lips. The sting was nice, nicer than Ben would have imagined.

Ben whined a little louder, shifting his head to the side to kiss Sammy’s jaw and rub his cheek along Sammy’s.

“Ben—” Sammy got out, and Ben paused. His mouth was right next to Sammy’s ear and he could smell Sammy’s shampoo all around the two of them, that familiar smokey-sweet scent.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” There was a roughness to his own voice, familiar from late nights with Emily, alone in her apartment. Ben didn’t think Sammy had ever heard him like this before. He hoped Sammy liked it.

It would probably be polite to pull away and give Sammy some space. Ben held still instead, even as the half-turn he was making to face Sammy began to strain his back.

Sammy took in a breath; the rush of air on the side of Ben’s face and neck made him shiver. “Ben.”

“’s my name, don’t wear it out.” It was taking a lot of self control not to nose against Sammy’s jaw and down his neck, to find his pulse point and kiss and bite there till it bruised.

“Should we…” Sammy made a frustrated sound and pulled himself further onto the bed, away from the edge of it where Ben still sat. “I don’t want you to not… want anything we end up doing.” He twisted a piece of his hair in his hands, winding and unwinding it from around his fingers.

God, Sammy had long fingers.

“I want,” Ben blurted out. “I want—shit, Sammy, I want anything you’d give me.” There was desperation in his voice and he knew it and didn’t have the self-control to hide it, and Sammy was just gonna have to deal with that. “Please,” he whispered. His voice cracked on the last word, but he kept on talking. “I want so bad, I… You know I looked in your suitcase. You know what’s in there, Sammy, you fuckin’ packed it! I want that.”

Sammy looked at him, eyes dark and inscrutable for a long moment. Then he blinked and the moment was over, and Ben knew him, knew the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the smile lines on his cheeks, knew that he wanted everything Ben wanted just as much.

“C’mon, don’t make me beg for it.” Ben risked a smile. When Sammy smiled back, he took another risk, leaning halfway to Sammy and waiting.

Sammy closed the distance between them and pulled Ben into another kiss. He got both hands around Ben’s waist and tugged and shit, Ben was in his lap now. This was good, this was fantastic, he’d been waiting for this all damn evening—

“Ben!” Sammy broke out of their kiss for Ben to realize he’d been mumbling those last few words out loud. Sammy laughed, loud and genuine. Ben had to kiss him then, just catching the corner of his mouth. “You’re a fucking menace,” Sammy stated, Ben’s lips still on him.

There was a small part of Ben that wanted to call Sammy ‘Are you hard in my clothes right now’ Stevens a hypocrite for that. However, there was another part of him between his legs that was sick of being ignored and wanted to do more than just talk.

“Suitcase,” he said instead. Instead of acting on his words, Ben kissed Sammy again, revelling in the give and take of their embrace. To Ben’s delight, he discovered that if he nipped at Sammy’s lip, Sammy moaned, throaty and low.

Sammy scooted back till he had his back against the headboard, dragging Ben along with him.

“Can I touch you?” Ben asked. He dropped his hands down to the waist of Sammy’s sweats, just tucking his fingers under the band.

“I am—unbelievably in favor of that, but if you want—shit, Ben!”

Ben smirked. He’d pressed his thumbs deep into the tender skin just inside Sammy’s hipbones and at the same time, bitten down on Sammy’s neck like he’d wanted to earlier.

Sammy rolled his hips up into Ben’s, swearing a blue streak and clutching Ben’s waist like an anchor. “I gotta—” he broke into another moan when Ben kissed his neck again. “What’s the plan here, Benny?”

With a wet pop, Ben removed his lips from Sammy’s skin. “No plan. Sick of plans.” He was about to dive back in when Sammy grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of Ben’s head, pulling him away from Sammy with enough force that it stung. Ben couldn’t help it; he arched his neck a little, pushing back into the touch.

“If we don’t make a plan, you might find this evening ending before we get to the contents of my suitcase,” Sammy warned.

Ben whined a little and ground his hips down, chasing the friction of his and Sammy’s dicks rubbing together through their pants. “Don’t care.” He shoved his hands up Sammy’s shirt till it was rucked up just under his arms, revealing acres of skin that Ben was fucking dying to get his mouth on.

So he might have had a bit of an oral fixation. Sammy didn’t look like it bothered him, not with the way he was breathing hard and flushed red all down his face and chest.

Sammy squeezed the back of his neck like he’d done earlier, and oh, Ben liked that almost as much as he liked the look in Sammy’s eyes when he did it. “Patience is a virtue,” Sammy said, voice entirely too level. Ben was about to roll his eyes when Sammy let go of his neck to push him off of Sammy’s lap entirely. “Wait here.” He stood up, leaving Ben alone on the bed.

“Not feeling super virtuous at the moment!” Ben snapped.

All ire vanished when Sammy stripped out of his clothes and bent over to retrieve the condoms and lube from his suitcase. No one who was eighty percent leg and so knobbly-kneed and sharp-elbowed should be that attractive. It wasn’t fair to Ben on a deep, emotional level.

Sammy turned to face Ben, leaving Ben even more bowled over than before. He slumped back against the bed and pressed the ball of his palm against his cock through his pants. “Fuck!”

“See something you like?” Sammy’s voice as he asked was sarcastic, but Ben’s answering nod was so genuinely enthusiastic that he got a bit dizzy.

“Fuck,” Ben said again, because he wasn’t sure his brain could come up with any other words at this point.

Sammy knelt on the bed and tapped Ben’s knee. “Open up.”

“What’re you, my fuckin’ dentist?” Ben snarked, but he let his legs fall open anyway. Sammy shuffled closer to him and set the lube and condoms to one side.

“May I?” asked Sammy, setting a hand on the waistband of Ben’s pants. His thumb dragged back and forth over the soft material, hardly any pressure making it through to Ben’s skin underneath.

“Yes, please, shit, Sammy!” Ben practically begged. He couldn’t help himself, he had to drag Sammy down into another kiss. Sammy broke away with a whine from Ben, but only to move down and kiss Ben’s neck and shoulders where they were bared by Sammy’s shirt. In an impressive display of multitasking, Sammy kept kissing Ben while he worked Ben’s—well, technically his, but who was counting?—pants down far enough that Ben could kick them off.

“Thought so,” he murmured, sliding his hands along Ben’s bare hips and thighs. “Didn’t feel like stealing my underwear, huh?”

The sound Ben made was not a word in any language.

“Mhhm,” Sammy said, and dammit Ben could hear the smirk in his voice.

Ben got his mouth open to retaliate, but then Sammy was kissing him again and he was pretty sure that the clicking sound he had just heard was the cap of the lube opening, so. He was distracted. Sammy was distracting.

That sound had definitely been lube, because the next thing Ben felt were Sammy’s fingers at his ass, slick and cool enough that he sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation. Sammy took his time opening Ben up, starting with just rubbing around his hole in gentle circles till Ben was wriggling and begging shamelessly.

Sammy looked at Ben like he couldn’t quite believe Ben was there. When Sammy finally pushed in with a single finger, the intrusion was… It wasn’t something Ben was used to. He stilled, breathed out a soft, “Oh.”

Sammy quirked an eyebrow at him and Ben grinned a little sheepishly. “Feels different.”

“I bet it does,” Sammy murmured, and kept pushing in and out, in and out. He still had that look in his eyes, something between wariness and glee and sheer disbelief, and the only thing Ben could think to do was to remind Sammy how much he was here and wanted to stay right here, possibly forever.

At the same time that Sammy curled his other hand around Ben’s dick, he slipped in a second finger and thrust a little deeper than before, curling his fingers upward until he reached a spot that felt like lightning in a bottle. Ben’s whole body lit up like—like Sammy’d uncapped the bottle, letting the lightning electrify every bit of Ben he hadn’t even known he’d had.

Or some metaphor like that.

He was vaguely aware he was babbling again, some incomprehensible shit about Sammy’s hands and lightning and a lot of swear words.

“You doin’ good down there?” Ben could hear amusement coloring Sammy’s voice.

He could just summon up the willpower to flip Sammy off.

“We’re working up to that,” was Sammy’s only response, and Ben had to groan and throw his arm across his face because seriously, Sammy was gonna kill him if he said stuff like that.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. Ben had no idea if it was five seconds or five hours.

However long it had been, Sammy had worked Ben up to three fingers and Ben couldn’t talk but he couldn’t stop trying to talk either, gasping and whining and every now and then getting out Sammy’s name. He was leaking like crazy, too, messy and wet all across his thighs and belly, just staining the hem of Sammy’s shirt where it’d been pushed up over his stomach.

Sammy was hard too, and whenever he leaned down to kiss Ben’s collarbone or cheeks or lips, Ben could just feel the brush of his dick against Ben’s. Ben thrust up every time, but Sammy stayed far enough away to keep the friction entirely under his control.

“Sammy, Sammy, I’m gonna die,” Ben moaned. “Gonna pass the fuck off this mortal coil, please, come on, fuck me!”

“You sure you’re ready?”

When Ben tipped his head up to get a look at Sammy’s face, fully ready for more teasing amusement, there was genuine concern in the crease of Sammy’s brow and the line of his mouth.

“Sammy.” Ben let his head fall back again, focusing instead on rolling his hips to match the movements of Sammy’s fingers. “I’ve been ready. Please. I said—” Sammy thumbed over the sensitive head of his dick, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from bucking up into the touch. “Please, I said don’t make me beg, I’m fucking begging now!”

“Are you?” Sammy’s voice was soft, and Ben glanced back up at him to see a smirk just playing on  his face.

“I’m ready!” he insisted.

“No, not are you ready,” Sammy corrected. He punctuated the no with a quick twist of his fingers, both inside and outside of Ben, making Ben keen with desire. “Are you  _ begging?” _

Ben propped himself up on his elbows; the mattress was uneven underneath him, almost knocking him off balance.

Sammy’s movements slowed, just enough to keep Ben’s body on edge. “Got something to say?”

“Please,” Ben said, nearly a whisper. “Sammy, I need it. Need you.”

Sammy bit his lip, his eyes far away for a moment. Sammy, Ben wanted to say again, but he couldn’t make his voice get the word out. He shifted his weight to one arm and reached up instead, cupped Sammy’s face with one hand and smoothed his thumb over Sammy’s cheek. Sammy leaned in to the touch like a feral cat, unsure if he deserved something this nice after a long history of stones and bitterness.

“You okay?” he asked, when he convinced his throat to work again.

Sammy smiled, soft and real and  _ Oh _ , Ben thought,  _ I love him _ , even though he already knew that, had said it before and would say it again. “The best,” Sammy promised. “Now, c’mere.” He scooted up the bed to lay back beside Ben and tugged on Ben’s hips.

It was easy to get where Sammy was going with this, and Ben eagerly swung a leg over Sammy to straddle his thighs. He snagged the lube and a condom off the sheets. Before rolling the condom on, he took a second to familiarize himself with the heft of another man’s dick in his hands for the first time in a long while. Maybe it was just Sammy, hot and slick under his hands, but it was… really, really fucking hot.

“Don’t feel like you have to take it all at on— _ motherfucking shit on a stick _ ,” Sammy swore, as Ben positioned Sammy’s dick under himself and slid down without hesitation.

“Jesuuuuus,” Ben moaned. He rocked back and forth minutely, one hand on Sammy’s stomach and the other on his own thigh to balance himself. Sammy’s shirt fell from where it was rucked up, tenting over Ben’s dick obscenely.

Ben didn’t miss the way Sammy’s eyes fastened to the spot. “Like seeing me in your clothes, huh, Sammy?” He rose back up on his knees and slowly sank back down. “I’m ruining this shirt, you know. You’re never gonna be able to wear this again without thinking of me, riding you—” Ben grinned, wide and ridiculous, “—riding shotgun!”

“Ben, no!”

“You gonna shut me up, Shotgun?” Ben teased.

“I don’t think anyone can shut you up, Benny.” Sammy held Ben’s hips still, taking back control of the pace and depth. He fucked Ben fast, driving up into him with more power than Ben would have guessed possible from Sammy’s rangy limbs.  In no time at all Ben was gasping and whining, but true to Sammy’s prediction, still getting out a word or two every other thrust. Nothing legible, repetitions of  _ Sammy, Sammy, please, _ and  _ God,  _ and  _ Fuck, _ and other obscenities.

Ben’s calves and thighs ached with the way he was sitting on them, but he had zero energy or motivation to do anything other than grind his hips down to meet Sammy’s. There was a pronounced wet spot on Sammy’s shirt at that point, and the light friction of it dragging over Ben’s dick whenever they moved kept Ben on that dizzy edge.

He was so desperate, mouth hanging open to let out little half-whines and gasps whenever Sammy brushed over his prostate.

Sammy, bracing himself with one hand, pulled Ben down into a kiss. Ben collapsed across Sammy, more than happy to kiss Sammy back and let Sammy keep doing all the work.

“Shirt’s already ruined, Benny, what are you waiting for?” Sammy started lengthening his thrusts upward, till he slid in and out of Ben almost lazily. His voice was rough and low; he fisted a hand in Ben’s hair to pull his head back and bite down just under his jaw.

Ben sighed—quiet, for once—and came all over himself and Sammy’s shirt.

He squirmed on top of Sammy, loud again in the aftershocks and in the almost too-good feeling of Sammy fucking him so slow.

“You can come on me if you wanna,” he murmured, pushing onto his hands to let Sammy get a better angle. “Ruin me like we ruined this shirt.”

Sammy huffed out a laugh. “‘We’ is a strong word, Ben.”

“Mmm, I’m right, though.” Ben’s voice had a raw edge to it even he could hear, like he was worn down to his bones. He sat up all the way, his knees protesting at the bend. But he’d already come, taking the sting out of his desperation; he could handle a little strain. “Tell me you didn’t see me in your shirt and immediately want to ruin it and me.”

He didn’t give Sammy the chance for a retort, fucking himself on Sammy’s dick with a steady rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to get Sammy off.

“I—” Sammy tried, but Ben rolled his hips and the word broke off into a moan. He shook his head, expression open and wanting. “Jesus, Ben, yes! Yes, I wanted to. Want to.”

Ben knelt up, let Sammy fall out of him with a wet pop that had them both flushing even redder than before. If that was possible. He took off the condom and worked his hand over Sammy at the same time.

Their eyes met and Ben grinned, leaned low to take the head of Sammy’s dick into his mouth for just a few seconds. His voice cracked when he removed his mouth to speak. “Then do it.”

Sammy swore loudly and came on Ben’s face and the collar of his shirt, narrowly missing Ben’s eyes. And maybe Ben should have been more concerned about that but honestly, all he could think of was the blissed-out look on Sammy’s face as he came.

“Benny,” Sammy said, pulling Ben out of his introspection. “Here, let me help with that.”

It was only then that Ben realized he was hard again, his cock just visible under the hem of Sammy’s shirt when he glanced down.

Sammy tugged him forward by the backs of his thighs, eliciting an undignified squawk before Ben actually moved anywhere. He wrapped one hand around the base of Ben’s dick, leaving the other holding Ben’s thigh.

“Can I?” he asked, looking up at Ben.

At the sight of Sammy’s face so close to his dick with his pupils all blown like that and face already flushed, Ben almost came before Sammy had even gotten his mouth on him. “Not—not gonna last long,” he admitted.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Sammy said, with the wicked kind of smile Ben only saw when Sammy had riled him up until he was making more offended noises than actual words.

Which, to be fair, meant he actually saw it pretty often.

Sammy hollowed his mouth around Ben and Ben was almost gone in moments, the tight wetness of Sammy’s mouth and the curling strokes of his tongue too much to handle.

Ben came loudly this time, crying out with Sammy gripping his thigh and swallowing around his cock.

“Good?” Sammy asked, once Ben’s dick was out of his mouth.  _ You did that! _ Ben shouted at himself,  _ Your—Sammy blew you and he fucking swallowed your cum and that’s why he sounds like this!  _ He whined a little in response and flopped down on the bed next to Sammy, pushing his face into Sammy’s shoulder.

Sammy nudged him away. “Don’t you wipe your—your cum-face on me!”

“It’s your fluids!” Ben protested.

“That does not make it any less gross when it’s all half-dry and sticky.”

Ben acquiesced because like it or not, Sammy did have a point. He stripped out of Sammy’s shirt, using the less-gross back side of it to wipe his face and Sammy’s stomach as clean as he could before tossing it off the bed and curling up at Sammy’s side.

“You’re picking that up tomorrow,” said Sammy. There was a drowsy tone to his voice then, softening the roughness.

“Only if you change the sheets tomorrow morning—shit, we aren’t at home! Should I Google —”

Sammy rolled over and slung an arm across Ben’s chest. “Go the fuck to sleep, Benny. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

The lights were still on in the bedroom; the AC a little cooler than either of them usually preferred to sleep with. They fell asleep anyway, tangled up with each other, happy and sated. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What _did_ happen to that pizza?

Something buzzed insistently off to one side of Ben’s head. He ignored it, choosing instead to roll over and shove his face into Sammy’s chest. 

“Ben,” Sammy grumbled. “S’your phone.” 

“No,” Ben whined, dragging out the vowel as long as possible. “You get it.”

Sammy shoved halfheartedly at Ben’s arm. “Up, up.”

Ben shook his head and wrapped himself around Sammy. “I’m sleeping. I can’t hear you.”

“It could be Emily or—shit, Ben, the pizza!” Sammy sat up. “Did you actually order that earlier?”

“I mean.” Ben blinked slowly, the hotel room with its twin beds and dim lamps coming back into focus . “Maybe? I was… a little distracted.” 

“Mhhm.” 

Ben extricated an arm to poke Sammy. “Don’t—don’t get all judgey on me now, you know you were just as distracted!” 

“I know, but I wasn’t ordering pizza.” Sammy swung his legs off the side of the bed and picked up Ben’s phone to squint at it. “Missed call and text from an unknown number.” 

“Dammit, that’s probably the pizza. Lemme see it.” Ben sat up and reached around Sammy to unlock his phone. 

_ 424-761-0123: Pizza for Banjo in lobby.  _

Sammy snorted. 

“I—what! Banjo’s not even a  _ name!” _

“Don’t be ridiculous, Banjo, go get our pizza and tip that poor bastard for waiting so long.” In contrast to his words, Sammy leaned back into Ben and closed his eyes. “C’mon, we aren’t getting any younger here.” 

“Maybe you aren’t,  _ Dad _ ,” Ben muttered, but he grabbed his phone and dragged himself up off of the bed anyway.

Sammy shoved at Ben’s hip. “Don’t  _ dad _ me when we just had sex!”

“Oh?” Ben said, letting a grin creep over his face as he pulled on pants. “Would you prefer—”

_ “Don’t you fucking dare—” _

“Daddy?” Ben finished.

Sammy chucked a pillow at his face. “Go get our pizza, asshole.”

Ben kept laughing even as the pillow hit him. “Your wish is my command,” he said, still snickering. “Be right back!” He left Sammy tangled in the bedsheets, grinning despite himself .

The carpet of the hotel floor was rough under Ben’s bare feet, and he half-ran, half-walked down the hallway to the elevator. His phone vibrated again. He checked it, expecting another passive-aggressive text from the pizza delivery man.

**bae-mily** **💖❤** **:** So, how are my favorite boys doing?  👀

He grinned at his phone. Of course she remembered to check in with him like they’d talked about before.  _ What a nerd. I love her so much. _

**ben:** dont you  👀 me!!! but…… good.

**bae-mily** **💖❤** **:** Good???

**ben** : u know, good

**ben:** 😳🤐

**bae-mily** **💖❤** **:** 👀👀👀

**ben:** just a sec in elevator

The elevator whirred and clunked at a worrying volume. In a vain attempt to ignore the way it wobbled, Ben studied himself in its cracked mirror. The fluorescent lights called further attention to the blush still splashed across his cheeks, the knotted mess Sammy’d made of his hair, how rumpled his clothes were—basically, how much he really, really looked like he just got fucked.

Which. Not wrong. 

He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it caught on tangles.

The elevator came to a juddering stop with Ben still studying himself in the mirror. 

“It’s not that obvious, right?” he asked his reflection. “Fuck it, it’s just a pizza dude.”

A woman about his age stood in the lobby with a box of pizza, shifting her weight from side to side and scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he came in.

“Banjo?” 

“It’s, uh. Ben. Ben Arnold?” 

She snapped her fingers. “Right! That radio guy, the one Shotgun hooked up with when he bounced from LA.” 

“Uh! Hooked up? What! We aren’t—the show, you know?” Ben blurted, too loud for the late hour. 

The pizza lady shook her head. “No, I mean the one with the radio show from that tiny-ass town. It was so weird, he was doing so well in LA! Like, not just anyone gets that Saturday night slot, you know?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Ben said. He might have agreed to just about anything to get the pizza box and get out of this conversation. “Sorry we made you wait, uh, twenty five percent tip okay?” He fumbled out his wallet.

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Receipt’s taped to the order.” She shoved the box into his arms. “So like, you were there when he came out, right?” She leaned uncomfortably close and lowered her tone conspiratorially. “That was so fucking weird! I streamed it from your website before you took it down, which, also? Bad marketing choice. Like, I know privacy or whatever, but that shit sells!”

She stared at him expectantly. 

“I—what.” Ben shook his head. “What?!” 

“Sorry, should have introduced myself. Kassandra Anne, promotions director for one of Shotgun’s sister shows. So you could say I knew him pretty well.” Kassandra grimaced. “Well,  _ former _ promotions director. After our star DJ skipped town, everything sort of went caput.” She smiled, sharp as a shark. “Seems like he’s getting pretty comfy here, though? God, I would have never imagined the dude was a—”

“Don’t,” said Ben. He squeezed the sides of the pizza box. The cardboard cut into his fingers. 

Kassandra raised her eyebrows. “Hm? I was just saying, all that fucking, like, hipster asshole bullshit he was on, didn’t really make him seem like the type. I mean, I bet he’s still got like, a ton of internalized shit to go through, but hey, makes for a great story. Care to share? You guys are like, besties, right? I don’t really keep up with small town shows like that too closely.” 

Ben was not going to punch anyone.

“Did you know I run a blog? If you could put me in touch with him, I’d love to interview him about everything. The gay thing, creative burnout, how cute the little town is, if he’s planning on coming back to LA? The original studio went down, of course, but I know some people who’d love to bring those Saturday nights back. We could even play up the queer shit if he wanted, make it, like, all drama and tea and so on.”

Maybe Ben was going to punch her. 

“We should get a new producer, though, that old one he was working with had no idea what he was doing. What was his name again? John? Jeff?” 

“It was Jack,” Ben said, and he shoved the pizza box back at her. “Fucking keep it.” Kassandra didn’t grab them in time, and the box fell to the floor. He turned to go, but paused before leaving the lobby. “It’s not my fucking story to tell, and it sure as hell isn’t yours. Sammy’s not your goddamn pet asshole or whatever! Leave us alone and get the fuck out of here.” 

He jogged for the elevator without giving her a second to respond, jabbing the buttons furiously. 

“Jesus, dude, no need to be such an ass!” Kassandra called to him. “I just want to talk to him!” 

He didn’t look back at her as the doors rattled closed.

The elevator jolted and wobbled on its way up to Sammy and Ben’s floor. Ben barely noticed, too busy seething at Kassandra and tamping down his questions about the person who Sammy had been before.

He’d known Jack then, he’d been fucking  _ engaged  _ to Jack then. Ben knew people could change and all that shit, but. It was hard to reconcile the Shotgun he’d heard on the tapes with the way Sammy talked about his past. Listening to the clips from ‘Shotgun Sammy’ and listening to the one clip he’d heard of Sammy, Jack, and Lily together sounded like two completely different guys. 

It wasn’t Ben’s business and he knew it. Even if they were… whatever they were going to be now. Ben didn’t have to spill the details of his past shitty decisions—never mind that at this point, Sammy had probably been there for the worst of them—and neither did Sammy. Not to Ben, and  _ especially _ not to some nosy producer. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

**bae-mily** **💖❤** **:** Did the elevator eat you?

**ben:** just weird encounter w/pizza person.  🤢 dont rly wanna talk abt it over text  📱❓ tmrw?

**bae-mily** **💖❤** **:** Of course, Benny. Love you! Hope everything goes okay <3 <3

**ben:** me 2

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. He was happy. Everything was fine. He was going to go back to their room, they were going to make out some more, they weren’t going to mention the pizza, and Ben was not going to bring up the tangled web of Sammy’s past. 

It was then Ben realized that he’d forgotten the room key. He scrunched up his nose and slumped against the door, knocking his forehead into it with a dull thunk.

“That you, Benny?” Sammy called from inside. 

“Yeah! … Can you let me in?” 

A few seconds of shuffling preceded the door opening, revealing Sammy in a pair of low-slung pajama pants. He smirked at Ben. “What’s the password?”

“I dunno, man, I’m. Uh. Please? Abra cadabra?” Ben shrugged, his shoulders taut. He was well aware he was being weird but like, he was weird all the time. Sammy probably wouldn’t notice. 

“You doing okay, buddy?”

Shit, he definitely noticed. 

Ben shrugged again and brushed past Sammy into the room, peering out the window to avoid looking back at Sammy.  _ Who were you?  _ “Super okay. Just tired.” 

“Maybe some pizza would have helped with that? You know, the one in the lobby?” Sammy walked up behind him. Ben couldn’t help but lean back into Sammy’s chest. Like he had been waiting for permission, Sammy put an arm around Ben’s waist and hooked his chin over Ben’s head. 

Ben turned in Sammy’s arms, shoving his face into Sammy’s chest. “You shouldn’t be this tall. It’s rude,” he muttered.

Sammy, unfortunately, did not take him up on the offered banter. “Ben. Benny, hey. What happened?” He hugged Ben closer.

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Pizza person was an ass.” He tugged away, pushing up onto his toes to kiss the side of Sammy’s mouth. “Distract me?” An obvious trick, maybe, but Ben could see the want in Sammy’s eyes and he had a feeling it would work. 

“Don’t make me be the responsible one about this,” Sammy groaned. He leaned down to press his forehead to Ben’s. 

“The only one making you do that is you.” Ben reached up to wrap his hands around the back of Sammy’s neck. “Neither of us  _ have _ to be responsible for anything.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Incorrigible, irresistible,” Ben shrugged. “I’ve heard it both ways.” He shifted back, pulling Sammy with him towards the nearest bed. 

“You have not, no one has ever confused those two words but you.” Sammy’s joke was half-hearted, his voice more soft than teasing. It almost hurt to look at him, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at Ben, and how his hair fell in tangled waves over his shoulders. 

Did he ever look at Jack like that? Had they ever had moments like this one?

Ben let himself fall back onto the bed and closed his eyes, shutting out the half-smile that quirked Sammy’s lips and the warmth on his face. The bed shifted and creaked as Sammy laid down beside him.

Sammy brushed his hand over Ben’s hair and Ben leaned into the touch, sighing slightly. 

“I should probably talk about shit,” he admitted. 

“I’m not gonna guilt you into talking about anything.”

Ben let Sammy keep petting his hair as he sighed again. “It was just… She was—I mean, the pizza lady. She said she knew you in LA?” 

Sammy’s hand froze. 

Ben kept going. “And she was—well, first, she was an asshole about you not being straight, so the pizza was homophobic and I don’t want homophobic pizza. But, um.” He took a breath. “I don’t know, man, I don’t want to make you talk about anything you don’t want to? I know you’ve changed and I love you—” It was Ben’s turn to freeze up, realizing suddenly that that was the first time he’d said ‘I love you’ since they’d had sex, but whatever, he  _ did _ love Sammy and now was not the time to get tripped up by little details like that. He opened his eyes and looked up at Sammy. “Whatever happened, I love you. You know that, right?” 

Sammy breathed out, harsh and slow. “I know. I love you too, Ben. It’s only—” He sat up, facing away from Ben so all Ben could see was the tight curve of his back and shoulders. 

The only sound was the soft rush of air conditioning. 

“I loved Jack, too,” Sammy said in a rush. “I loved him and—and I know it wasn’t just me, I know we both kind of fucked that one up, but I thought for the longest time if I just kept loving him it would work out. Because that’s what all the fucking—heterosexual romance bullshit told me. Love conquers all.” He laughed at that, the sound bitter and shallow. “But it turns out when you’re a couple of closeted gay dudes running a shitty shock jock show, love doesn’t conquer shit.” 

Ben sat up next to Sammy. Sammy’s whole body was taut, shoulders hunched like he was bracing himself for a blow. G _ od, _ Sammy looked tired. Like he’d been bracing himself for years, never able to relax, never able to know when that next punch would come. His eyes were pinched closed, the lines around his mouth deep as canyons. 

“Hey,” Ben said softly, when it was clear Sammy wasn’t going to say anything else. “Can I touch you?” 

Sammy shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

Which, like. Not exactly the reaction Ben was hoping for. He settled on putting a gentle hand on Sammy’s back. “Uh. I’m not Jack. I know that’s probably obvious.” He huffed out a nervous laugh. “It’s only—” He shook his head, scrunching up Sammy’s shirt in his fist. “I don’t want to, like—”

“Jesus, Ben, spit it out,” Sammy snapped, leaning his elbows on his knees and curling in on himself tighter. He let out a long breath. “Sorry, that was… rude.”

“No, see, that’s okay!” Ben leaned in to Sammy’s side, pressing himself as close as he dared. The bed shifted beneath their weight. “I’m not Jack, I’m—” He hesitated for only a moment before barreling on. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise, Sammy, I’m going to stay. I don’t care if you get mad at me or say cruel shit sometimes or, or, call me Benny on air, or whatever, I’m serious. I’m going to stay, I’ll listen, we can talk about things.” 

Sammy didn’t say anything, but where they were pressed together Ben could feel the tiniest bit of tension leave Sammy’s body. The room seemed blurrier, soft at the corners. Or maybe Ben was just tearing up. “I just need you to tell me when you feel stuff like that. I’m not psychic—”

“Psychics aren’t real,” Sammy muttered half-heartedly. 

“They definitely are, you remember Golden Owl, I—” Ben shook his head. “Not the point right now. I’m just saying. I’m not a mindreader, Sammy. And. Also. It is possible that I am not the best person at reading the room.” 

Sammy snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.” He was still hunched over, but Ben could make out the hint of a smile on his face. 

“Shut up, dude! Seriously, though. Tell me how you feel about stuff, okay? Even if it’s not nice. I wanna hear you.” Ben closed his eyes and hugged Sammy.

“You promise?” 

“Of course. I love you.” 

Sammy pulled away, but only to extricate his arms enough to hug Ben back. “I love you too, Ben.” And if he sounded a little choked up, well, Ben wasn’t going to call him on it. “And don’t think I forgot about the ‘Benny’ thing, if Emily gets to call you Benny all the time, then so do I.” 

“Anything you want,” Ben promised. He let out a yelp as Sammy tugged him forward, resettling them with Ben half in Sammy’s lap. “Hey, warn a guy!” 

“You said anything I want. Plus, I remember distractions were mentioned earlier,” Sammy pointed out. “I’m following through.” 

“Oh, yeah, a real stand-up dude you are.” Ben straddled Sammy’s thighs as he talked. A nagging voice at the back of his head said that they should maybe wait to like, do anything until their emotions weren’t so fraught.  A louder voice insisted that getting to be in Sammy's lap was infinitely preferable to any other option. “So thoughtful on the follow-up.” 

“Mhhm, that’s me,” Sammy agreed. He cupped Ben through his—through  _ Sammy’s _ —sweatpants, the thin material barely separating his hand from Ben’s cock. Ben couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small, breathy sound and thrusting forward into the contact. Sammy’s pants weren’t any thicker, but it was still more fabric than Ben wanted between the two of them right now. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Sammy asked.

“H-hate you,” Ben got out, Sammy’s clever fingers making even those few words more difficult than they should be. 

“You know,  _ Benny, _ I’ll be honest: it really doesn’t feel like you do.” Sammy teased at the head of Ben’s cock. He worked Ben up with infuriating slowness, taking time to tease him through his pants until a new wet spot began to show through where he was leaking. 

Ben dropped his head to Sammy’s shoulder and rolled his hips forward, doing his best to fuck Sammy’s hand without even being undressed. “I—you—” 

“You, me…” Sammy kept stroking over Ben, grabbing Ben’s ass to tug him closer. “You know,” he said, his tone of voice unfairly conversational, “I wonder if you could come just like this. I don’t even have to take off your pants, do I—which, by the way, are still my pants.” Sammy barely had to move to get his lips on Ben’s neck, mouthing at the delicate skin, using just enough teeth to sting. “Gonna come in my pants, Benny? With my hands on you, me talking you through it? Is that all you need?” 

“Fuck— _ fuck _ you,” Ben hissed, panting and rolling his hips down as fast as he could, unable to keep to a steady rhythm. Sammy worked him through it, unceasing even as Ben’s voice broke and he came, until he was whining with the too-good sharpness of it. 

“Sammy, Sammy,” Ben panted as soon as he could make words again, still rolling his hips and trying to grind against Sammy’s thighs and cock. “Can I, um, can I blow you?”

Sammy pushed Ben back and shoved the heel of his hand down at the base of his dick. “Yeah, yep, abso-fucking-lutely, I just.” He swallowed. “I need a second.” 

“A little close, huh?”

Sammy poked Ben in the chest. “Let he who hath not already gotten off throw the first stone, Benjamin.” 

Ben laughed, sliding out of Sammy's lap to kneel between his legs. “I haven’t really—you know—in a while.” Ben tugged Sammy's sweatpants down to reveal his dick, shiny and slick with precum. 

“You seemed to do just fine earlier tonight,” Sammy pointed out. He grinned, then, and Ben had never seen Sammy’s grin from precisely this angle before. “Unless,” he set a hand on the back of Ben's head, a gentle but firm hold. “You wanted some help?” 

Ben made a strangled, unintelligible sound. His face was burning, and he knew he was blushing cherry-red. 

“What do you want me to do? I need you to say it.” 

“I want—” Ben swallowed, barely able to focus with Sammy’s cock hanging a few inches in front of him. “I want you to fuck my face!” he blurted, because filters were for people who weren’t having sex with the man they’d been in love with for years.

“See, Benny? All you had to do was ask.” Sammy’s voice was hoarse now, near a breaking point. His grip on Ben’s hair tightened. Sammy was slick and heavy in Ben’s mouth, filling him up and pressing into his tongue and cheeks. All Ben could taste was the salty-sweet tang of him; all he could feel were Sammy’s hands on him and cock in his mouth. 

He was vaguely aware of Sammy grabbing his hand to place it on Sammy’s knee. “Two taps to tap out, okay?” Sammy asked, pulling out just far enough for Ben to nod his agreement. 

And then he closed his eyes and let Sammy use him. 

This probably wasn’t for everyone, but Ben discovered very quickly that it was for him. Sammy was forceful but not rough, careful with Ben even as he took control. The heat of him in Ben was so, so much, and it was exactly what Ben wanted. What he  _ needed.  _

Sammy couldn’t seem to talk anymore. 

Which wasn’t to say that he was silent, far fucking from it. Sammy made these rough, soft sounds, halfway between moans and grunts. They were stupid and not sexy and Ben was not getting hard for the fourth time tonight like he was still in fucking college. 

He whined around Sammy’s dick, loud and shameless. Sammy swore and doubled his pace, thrusting further into the back of Ben’s throat. 

Ben canted his hips forward, looking for friction where there wasn’t any. He wasn’t even sure he needed it, everything else was already so damn much. There wasn’t room for anything in his head but him and Sammy, the push and pull between them that never quite stopped, even now. 

_ Especially _ now, with Sammy’s dick hitting Ben’s throat and Ben begging for it as best he could without being able to talk. He was drooling, throat stinging and jaw aching. Every sensation that should have been uncomfortable was the best thing he’d ever felt, heady and addictive. 

“Ben, Benny, I’m—”" and Sammy came in his mouth and, well, he’d come this far. Ben swallowed it without hesitation, mouth working around Sammy’s dick until Sammy was whining with the overstimulation and pushing Ben off.

Ben  _ ached  _ in a way he was going to remember for a long time. He had a feeling that he’d come dry in the moment and hadn’t even noticed until now. He slumped against Sammy’s thigh, panting slightly. “Fuck.” 

Sammy carded his fingers through Ben’s hair, loosening the tangles that had started to develop. “You okay, buddy?”

“Fantastic,” Ben sighed. He grinned and gave in to the urge to nuzzle his face against Sammy's leg, no matter how gross and sweaty they both were. “Ten out of ten.”

“Want to get cleaned up any time soon?"

“No,” Ben mumbled. “Think I’ll stay right here forever.” 

“Well,” Sammy said, “you are welcome to do so, but I am going to go put on pants and sleep in the non-disgusting bed.” He detangled himself from Ben, stopping with a hand still petting Ben’s hair. “You’re welcome to join me, if you want?”

“Please,” Ben said, a bit more vulnerability in his tone than he’d meant to give away. But Sammy was smiling at him, open and honest in return.

Ben felt like things were maybe going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after eight thousand years.... at last i rise once more with samben smut. also to fix some tagging issues someone called out, thank you for letting me know that i should update those!

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the samben discord and the person who messaged me on tumblr asking for a Sammy and Ben weekend trip fic. I am........... pretty certain they did not think it would take me so long or contain so much sex, but you know, that's just how it be sometimes. Also, keep an eye out for an epilogue soon!


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